


No More

by Junichan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Please Don't Hate Me, Self-Hatred, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 13:49:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17829749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Junichan/pseuds/Junichan
Summary: A boy, 13 years old, if he had ever had a name he could not remember it. He had black dirty hair that hadn't seen a comb in weeks and green eyes that had lost all their light and were now just a pair of dull lifeless orbs. His body was malnourished and much too small for his age and his mind broken beyond repair by the abuse of his supposed family. The boy had learned long ago to never be seen or heard if his presence was not requested and should he slip, he would not be fed until his uncle decided he had made amends.





	No More

  
No more

The quietest of whimpers from a boy could be heard through the dark space, along with heavy breathing from a much older man as the man pulled out his now limp member from the much too small body lying on his back on the filthy bed. His limbs uncomfortably sprawled around him the boy tried to be as quiet and still as he could possibly be as to not draw more unwanted attention to himself.

The boy, 13 years old, if he had ever had a name he could not remember it. He had black dirty hair that hadn't seen a comb in weeks and green eyes that had lost all their light and were now just a pair of dull lifeless orbs. His body was malnourished and much too small for his age and his mind broken beyond repair by the abuse of his supposed family. The boy had learned long ago to never be seen or heard if his presence was not requested and should he slip, he would not be fed until his uncle decided he had made amends for his insubordination.

The reason he was in this position right now was because his uncle had needed to call him twice. The boy had been to the bathroom when he first called, he had finished as fast as he possibly could but it had not been fast enough and as soon as he heard the furious voice of his uncle call the second time he knew he would get a severe punishment. His uncle had been waiting in the doorway for him, grabbed him by the neck and dragged him to the kitchen where he threw the tiny body toward the stove and told the boy to have dinner ready within the hour.

He could feel another brusie on his already battered body forming where his shoulder blade had met the hard edge of the stove but he knew there was no time to tend to it. He prepared the dinner for the rest of the family, a dinner he knew he would not get to eat today. After all he'd had the nerve to not be fast enough when called. He didn't dare sneak himself a snack either, his uncle had had caught him when he'd done that once a few years ago. He hadn't been able to walk properly for weeks and still had scars over his back and bum. No, he would never again try anything stupid like that. It was only by his uncle's and aunt's kindness that he had a roof over his head and clothes on his body after all.

On the days he got to eat, his family would leave their leftovers on the table. The boy would have to wait for them to retreat for the evening before he was allowed in there. After he'd eaten it was expected of him to clear the table and clean until everything was spotless. On the days he didn't get food, his aunt would clear away all of the leftovers but leave the dishes on the table just to spite the boy. And he needed to be quiet while eating and cleaning or he would earn himself a slap. And that was if he was lucky. Would he be unlucky, he would not eat for days and during that time was locked away in the cupboard under the stairs.

And that was where the boy was now, under the stairs, in the dark cupboard with his uncle. The air in the much too small space of the cupboard was warm and sticky and had a sickly scent of coppery blood and human sex. The silence around the boy now was defening, compared to the loud breathing and grunting that had occupied the space just moments before.

Today there had not been any leftovers on the table and the boy had a feeling that there would not be tomorrow either, nor the day after that. He hoped he atleast would be allowed to use the bathroom. There were days when he wasn't allowed out into the house at all, on those days he didn't get any water either. If he was allowed to use the bathroom atleast he would be able to drink some water. But he had to be careful, if he drank too much and wasn't allowed to use the bathroom the day after he wouldn't be able to hold himself from peeing. Should he pee in his cupboard he would get a beating. It had happened a few times before and so the boy had learned to not drink more than necessary and to always try to hold himself until he was let out of his cupboard.

The last thing the boy wanted to now though was to move. His body ached in every possible way. His shoulder was sore from before, his body ached from a fresh beating just before he was dragged into the cupboard, it ached from old wounds and bruises from the previous weeks. But the worst of all was his backside. The boy's uncle had never done something like this before, he had touched the boy, saying that it was his fault that his aunt never had energy left for him anymore. He had threatened the boy with this, saying that it was part of growing up and that he would teach the boy, but never had he done it. Until now.

The boy lay there on the bed, much too afraid to move his limbs, even to a less exposed position. His uncle was just sitting there now. He had zipped himself in and was sitting with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He almost looked regretful with the way his shoulders had slumped.

"Get cleaned up, boy. You are filthy and horrible to look at." The sudden sound of his uncles voice made the boy tense up and once again the tiniest of whimpers escaped him as a fresh wave of pain made its way through his small body. The boy was sure his uncle heard the whimper and fear clawed at his insides but his uncle, to his surprise, didn't do anything except to look annoyed and get up to walk out with a disgusted look on his ugly face. He closed the door firmly but left it unlocked, letting the boy know that he was to do as he was told.

The boy kept completely still, listening the sounds of his uncle moving about and taking a shower and lastly getting to bed before he allowed himself to move. The boy couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath when he tried to move his body to sit up. He almost cried out when his backside touched the bed, _almost_ , and he fell back on the bed when another wave of pain tore through his body at his sudden movements. His eyes filled with tears that he couldn't stop but he didn't let them fall. He wouldn't. He could all too clearly remember the last time his uncle heard him cry.

Deciding his best chance to avoid any more punishment would be to wait until he was sure his uncle was asleep, the boy once again lay still and listened until he could hear his uncle's snoring along with his aunt's. Still he waited a few minutes before getting up and this time avoided putting any weight on his backside but the pain of his movements still made him dizzy. The boy moved carefully through the first floor of the house and after a few struggling minutes later he was at last closing the door to the bathroom.

The boy felt nauseous of the way he could still seem to feel his uncles hands caressing his skin and the door had barely closed behind him before he had to crouch down by the toilet and throw up what little there still was in his body. Every step, every movement and every breath brought up a new wave of pain, reminding the boy about the obscene things his uncle had done to him.

Even weaker now that the last bit of energy had left his body, the boy dragged himself towards the bathtub and slowly climbed in. Silent tears were streaming down his face now, tears that he had no energy left to surpress and his breathing was laboured. He needed to use all his willpower to keep the air flowing in and out of his lungs. He almost curled in on himself when he saw that he had to stand up to reach the shower handle but the mere thought of what his uncle would do with him if he were to stay there gave him strength to do what he had to.

Moving carefully the boy proceeded to clean his body as throughly as he could but every drop of water on his skin felt like the tip of a blade. He turned the heat up until the water was scalding and his body grew numb. Only then did he begin to scrub his body. The boy scrubbed and scrubbed and still couldn't seem to get clean enough. He felt as though he could never wash away the filth and felt nausea start to bubble up to the surface again. Having no energy to move from the bathtub, the little water he had managed to swallow came up again, right there in the tub. It made the boy feel even more disgusted but he didn't have the strenght to move even a little.

The boy was on his knees, hugging his stomach, unable to move anymore and crying silently as his body continued to dry heave. When it finally stopped the boy was on the verge of passing out, the edges of his vision blurred and body feeling heavy as lead. Panic started to swirl somewhere in the back of his mind about passing out here, where his uncle would find him in just a few hours, but his weakened body could not fight it and soon the boy was slipping into a blissful, dreamless, unconsciousness.

◦◦☽✩◦☼◦✩☾◦◦

The boy woke with a start when the water turned ice cold. He scrambled away from the spray of water and quickly turned the knob to stop the flowing. Gasping from the pain he could feel his heart beating fast from the scare. He stayed still for a moment to let the pain subside a bit before getting out of the tub and drying off as best he could with a tiny hand towel not having the luxury to get his own.

He opened the door as quietly as he could and listened for any sounds. Only when he was sure that he could hear snoring did he move from the doorway. The window in the livingroom caught his eye, the sun was already rising and as he looked at the clock he saw that it was already past 4 am in the morning. He would only get a couple of hours to sleep it seemed. He faintly wondered if he would even be able to move in the morning when he made his way back to the cupboard and closed the door quietly behind himself.

He dressed in a pair of too large sweatpants and a much too long hoodie that he had been given to him after they had belonged to his cousin. They were old and worn down but atleast they were soft and comfortable and didn't press down any sore spots on his body. The boy pulled the hood on his head to let it dry his hair and looked down at the bed. He saw dark red splotches and a few pinkish spots where his own blood had mixed with his uncles semen and he felt sick again. His hand covered his mouth and he closed his eyes to try and surpress the need to throw up, but that didn't help much considering the smell that seemed to cling to the small space. He started to cold sweat and soon found himself running back to the bathroom to heave into the toilet again.

Afterwards he sat with his head resting on the egde of the toilet, once again much too weak and in too much pain to move. He closed his eyes and felt tears trickle down his cheek and nose. His body had started to shake a while ago and he wondered why he couldn't seem to have control over himself. He stood on shaky legs and walked over to the sink after flushing to rinse his mouth and splash some water in his face. He saw from the edge of his vision his reflection moving in the mirror in front of him but refused to look. He hadn't looked in a mirror since he was a small child, when his own reflection used to scare him.

He knew his body was changing, he could see it when he looked at his own body when changing clothes or taking a shower. Parts of his body were becoming more defined, no longer being the formless body of a child and he knew he was growing taller. Hair had also started to grow in places where there had been none before and he knew his mind worked a little differently. Where he had before believed his uncle that he was bred from monsters he now understood that he had meant that as an insult, not literally. Where he had believed that they were kind to him for not throwing him out on the street, he now knew they only wanted to break him. And where there had been childish hope of things getting better, there was now a knowledge that it would not.

He had stupidly hoped for a short while, before that hope had been beaten out of him too, that someone, anyone, would come and save him but that hope was long gone. There had been a letter once two years ago that had been about him. He had heard his aunt and uncle discussing in hushed voices about what to do about it. He hadn't been able to understand what the letter had been about but by the sound of their voices he understood that it had been something they couldn't just ignore. His childish mind had stupidly believed that someone, somewhere, knew of his existance and would try and see him but in the end no one had showed up and he had stopped having those kinds of stupid dreams.

Back in the cupboard the boy refused to look at the sheets and instead pulled them all off and pushed them into a corner. His only possesion, a blanket he had been waddled in when he first arrived at the doorstep of this house was lying on a shelf over the bed, He took it down now and curled into a ball at the head of the bed, covering himself with the blanket. His body and mind exhausted he immediately drifted off to sleep.

◦◦☽✩◦☼◦✩☾◦◦

His sleep was restless and ofter disturbed. The boy woke up often from pains and aches and when he woke up the last time, sometime after 7am he could hear the rest of the family waking up so he didn't even bother trying to go back to sleep. Some of his wounds had started to swell and his chest ached. He could feel a fever coming and really hoped that he would be left alone for today so he could let his body rest. Other than the family making sure to stomp on the staircase above the cupboard and making sure to make as much noise as they possibly could when walking past the door but otherwise ignored the boy. He wouldn't risk going back to sleep though, he wanted to be alert when they were up.

The hours passed by in a haze of confusing thoughts and as the hours passed, his fever got worse. As did the pain in his chest, he could barely touch the left side of his chest making him suspect that he had a bruised rib on top of everything else. With his body and mind exhausted and the fever getting steadily worse, it was harder and harder to stay awake and before long he started to drift in and out of consiousness.

Nightmares and fever, confusing dreams and nauseating thoughts were relieving eachother in an endless loop and soon he was scared out of his mind of both being awake and falling asleep. The boy felt like he had been drifting for days when, after looking at the cracked clock on a shelf above the bed told him it had only been a little more than 12 hours. He had been quietly coughing, pressing his blanket to his face in an attempt to block the sounds from reaching the family, for a few hours now and he knew that was getting worse too. His throat was dry and his tounge felt swollen. He was really thirsty but didn't know if he was allowed out or not. And he would never risk asking them either so it seemed he was stuck until everyone went to bed.

The boy tried to press the blanket to his face when another coughing fit started but it was getting worse along with his fever and with dread seeping into his very core he realized that the blanket wasn't enough to keep him quiet. His aunt and uncle must have heard him. His heart was beating fast and hard in his chest, his eyes wide with fear as he heard steps approaching. The door flew open and the boy had to squint from the sudden light that invaded the darkness of the cupboard.

His aunt was standing there, looking at him with disgust in her eyes as she took in his damp, pale face. She left without a word a few moments later and the boy who could suddenly breathe again, clutched at his chest where his heart was beating wildly with trembling hands. The relief didn't last long however because the door was thrown open again and his aunt was back, this time with a glass of water that she handed him. He looked at her, suspicious and confused, and slowly accepted the glass.

"Keep it down, you are disturbing us." She said cruelly before she slammed the door shut again. He had for a brief moment thought that she was being nice, but as usual she was only thinking of them. He sipped on the water but didn't drink much in case it was all he got and put the glass away on a free spot on the shelf above his head. He then turned around, ignoring the pains throughout his body and pulled his blanket up over himself again already exhausted from that little bit of movement.

◦◦☽✩◦☼◦✩☾◦◦

The boy didn't know how much time had passed since he fell asleep, it could have been days or just a few minutes, but most likely a couple of hours. He awoke from the door being thrown open again. This time it was his unce that stood in the doorway, filling the whole frame with his massive body. Fear spiked through him as his uncle smiled down at him. It wasn't a warm or kind smile. It was the kind of smile that chilled the boy to his very core, because it was the same kind of smile he had recieved the night before.

Trembling with fear the boy saw how his uncle slowly made his way further toward him. He tried to back away but he was already as far into a corner as he could be and had nowhere to go. He pulled his knees further to his body and put his hands in front of him as if trying to keep his uncle at a distance but it was futile of course. His thin arms no match for the massive body in front of him, even less so with the high fever making him weaker. One wrist was gripped hard by one large hand and another hand gripped his ankle and suddenly he was on his back.

He recieved the first strike to his face for not doing what he was supposed to. The hard fist connected high up on the left cheek making his vision blur and white dots to dance in front of his eyes. A wave of dizziness held him for a moment before he could think clearly again. Another fist connected with his jaw so hard it nearly dislocated. His uncle was talking to him but he couldn't hear the words for the ringing in his ears. A third fist to his ribs had him wanting to scream as it was the same spot where he already hurt. He made a guttural kind of growl instead, but that earned him another fist, this time to the stomach wich knocked all the air out of him.

Before he could recover his sweatshirt had been ripped off and his uncle had already gripped the hem of his sweatpants before the boy had time to react. His hands flew down and gripped the bigger mans wrists.

"No please.." The boy croaked in a hoarse whisper and looked at his uncle. His uncle released his pants and slowly the boy released the wrists he was still holding on to. As soon as he did though his uncle grabbed hold of the fabric again and janked the pants off before he used his open palm to strike the boy's face so hard that the small body flew off of the bed and into the wall and down in the narrow space between the bed and the wall. Disoriented and unable to move his body he lay there for a moment, gasping breaths and silent sobs wrecking his body wich only seemed to infuriate his uncle even more.

"You do not speak you filthy freak! You are to do me this kindness for letting you stay inside these walls, understood!?" His uncle hissed as he grabbed the boy by his hair and dragged him up on the bed again. When his uncle started to unzip his own pants the boy hoped that his uncle would just beat him uncosious first. At least that way he wouldn't need to be awake for what was to come. He forced his tears to fall faster, sobbing louder and tried to move away again, all the things his uncle hated him doing, the things that would normally get him beaten. But his uncle only gave one of those wicked smiles again, like he knew what the boy tried to do.

The man grabbed hold of the boy's ankle and janked him back to the middle of the bed so hard that something snapped and pain shot up his leg. His uncle did not care though and continued as nothing. The pain from all of his old wounds and new ones together with that from the ankle made him feel faint and the hope of passing out before his uncle could start flared.

But the boy had no such luck. Still dizzy from pain and vision blurry he felt pain at his scalp as he was once again grabbed by the hair and pushed down, this time on something harder and warmer than his bed. He heard his uncle's voice distantly but could not make out any words and suddenly his mouth was pried open by something hard and warm. It took the boy a moment too long to realize what it was but before had time to pull back he was pushed down until he choked. He had never hated his uncle as much as he did in that moment. His head was held in place even as he gagged and started to turn blue from lack of oxygen.

The boy was finally janked off by his hair as his body started to go limp but before he could pass out. He drew in staggering breaths and started to cough but before he could recover he was pushed back down, once again not getting air. This went on for what felt like days, everytime he was allowed a breath was a flash of a second and everytime he was pushed back down felt like hours passing before he could breathe again. The boy eventually passed out from exhaustion.

The boy was forced from the blissful blackness by a searing pain from his rectum. He was on his back again, moved when he was unconsious. At first he could feel nothing but the pain, pain even worse than the last time due to the tearing that had not healed yet, but soon other things registered through the pain. Like the bruising grip on his hips and another odd feeling in his mouth. Beside his hurting jaw and sore throat he felt a slightly slimy texture on his tounge. His body had already started to heave even before his brain registred what it was but at soon as it did the heaving got worse. A large hand was clamped down over his mouth and nose as another hand gripped his throat hard. Once again unable to breathe or get his uncle's semen out of his body he felt a loathing so strong he felt like he was going to explode.

Maybe he did actually explode, the boy didn't know, but suddenly the hands were gone, the pain in his backside was gone and he was filled a heat so strong that it shadowed everything else he felt. All he knew was that he'd had enough. He couldn't do this anymore, couldn't live like this no more.

 ** _No more, no more, no more, NO MORE,_** Filled the boy's mind. He heard screaming and could feel the heat lashing out from his body as he saw his uncle lying crumpled at the edge of the bed, crawling away from the boy in agony as the heat continued to roll off of him in waves. **_No more_**. His uncle was long since silent, his eyes bloodshot and blood trickling from his nose and ears but the boy didn't stop the burning, raging heat. _**No more**_.

The door to the cupboard flew open and his aunt was standing there, terrified of what she saw when the boy turned his dead eyes towards her. **_No more._** The heat seemed to change target to what the boy was looking at and now it was his aunt burning.  ** _No more_**. Her screaching cut off when blood started to fill her mouth and trickle down onto her chest. **_No more._**

The boy kept the burning waves rolling until he felt compleatly drained. _No more._ The boy could once again feel every wound and bruise and ache and every time his uncle or aunt had abused him flashed through his mind. _No more.._ He knew that he could never live a normal life, no one would want him, he was filthy, vile, horrible, a freak, an idiot, a good for nothing waste of space, stupid, worthless, a monster. _No more.._ And now he was a murderer, how it happened he had no idea but he was glad he'd done it.

The boy felt his body growing numb, all the aches and pains fading, and felt his heart slow down. He heard distantly something banging but he didn't bother with it. He was finally free of his aunt and uncle.

_No more..._

His mind now fading with his body the last thing he saw was people rushing towards him, wierd looking people in strange robes holding wooden sticks. They were talking to him, or maybe screaming but soon enough everything went numb.

_No more..._

The boy felt peace for the first time in life for he knew that when he closed his eyes he would never wake up again.

-END-


End file.
